le petit mort
by sheisawhirlwind
Summary: There are no words to be spoken. Every wave of sensation screams I love you in ways words could never express. (my elaboration on the film's end)


She kisses him: _one, two, three._ She kisses him in the places that look like they need the most attention at the moment - but she will take care of every inch of him, tonight.

He kisses her back, breath trailing warm on her neck. Amelie has _never_ been more ready to give herself up to any force until now and that force is _love._

Amelie lets Nino deepen the kiss while trying to close the blinds and get to bed in as few motions as possible. The plan is this: pull Nino closer by the back of his neck but also walk towards the bed and also keep one hand on the curtains so they get shut -

But no plan conceived in a rush goes perfectly: Nino trips on her feet, she bites his lip on accident and their teeth knock together when they gasp in unison. Then they look at each other, mouths agape, and burst out laughing.

Still, Amelie is a driven girl. As soon as they stop laughing and Nino looks at her, quiet and open, she goes back to _kisskisskissing_ him all over: forehead, nose, eyelids, _mouthmouthmouth_ (how can you blame her? she likes it), ears, neck, collarbone -

Nino stops her, pulls back, and the _want_ inside Amelie's gut rears up, frantic and needy. He knows, but he asks anyway: "Amelie, do you really want to…?"

She takes off his jacket and whispers, "Let's go to the bed, Nino."

They sit on the bed and take turns undressing each other, piece by piece. It's slow and careful, like an old couple waltzing together like they have since always. In their dreams, even.

When they're both fully exposed, their eyes caress every inch of each other. Then Amelie drops some kisses to his clavicle. To her pleasant surprise he reciprocates enthusiastically and his big, warm hands with little callouses (from all the odd jobs he's done, being a dreamer) smooth down the sides of her body and temporarily smooth out the jagged edges of the desire in her gut.

When he tentatively reaches for her breasts, she holds her breath. Nino's big, warm hands make her sigh and curve her spine up towards his touch. He's good at it, at all of this, and Amelie feels a little nervous now.

So she gently takes his hands away and pushes him flat onto the bed, straddling him. "What do you like?" She whisper-asks.

He's a little bemused. She continues, hands dancing across his chest, "I want to make you feel good like you make me feel," and he chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We're barely started, Amelie. Don't worry, you're amazing," He whispers to her. She moves to get off, but then she feels a stroke of warmth and _want_ when her core brushes his. Nino sucks in a breath. She does it again, rolling her hips, and Nino flips them over before she's even noticed -

He slants his mouth over hers, less careful now. His hand dances south, to her inner thigh, and he asks, "Can I?"

Amelie bites her lips and nods shyly, only to gasp and shudder with pleasure, lost in every shockwave Nino's hand sends into her very being. He kisses her collarbone fervently. She mewls with every touch. Everything is _hot_ and _good_ and _yes right there_ and when Amelie feels something _coming_ she calls out Nino's name like a prayer.

Nino moves to simply snuggle at her side, but Amelie clambers on top and rocks their bodies together again and says, "It's my turn," with eyes half-lidded in contentment.

Nino and his beautifully, beautifully warm body are no help in keeping Amelie from touching him all over, despite his far-from-convincing protests. She kisses him deep, hard, and probably a little messily, but it's hot and good. She reaches down past his sternum and his belly button, dancing on his hip bone; tries to replicate that heat from earlier for Nino with her hand.

"What do you like?" She repeats, and adds, "tell me what you want," as she pumps him up and down slowly, biting her lip.

Nino mutters a heavy " _Fuck_ ," before grabbing Amelie by the hips and pinning her down. He positions himself between her legs, breath caught in his throat as he slides in, and when he's in, he can hardly do a thing except grip onto Amelie's pale arms. He hasn't got a coherent thought in any corner of his brain.

Amelie is quick to respond, clasping her legs around his waist. Her quiet moans that escape her throat, unbidden, motivate Nino.

It's his heavy, hot breath and her heavy, hot breath.

Their hands tangling, sweaty but strong.

Backs arch together.

Kisses are exchanged like they must kiss to breathe.

It's a blur of sensation, warm and wild. It's tunnel vision of the best kind: all Amelie can see are Nino's warm brown eyes, pupils dilated. A single centimeter between them seems too much. She feels like love and lust are being blurred together, and she's desperate to fill the gaps between her and Nino.

There are no words to be spoken. Every wave of sensation screams _I love you_ in ways words could never express.

The shockwaves come faster and faster. Nino is losing control and Amelie is right there with him and, and, andandand -

With onetwothreefour final snaps of his hips, Amelie and Nino both are overcome with an orgasm that spreads through their spines and curls their toes like hot white light -

Amelie wakes up to tendrils of buttercup-yellow, late-morning light softly tickling her awake. Nino is nestled in her arms and Amelie feels like her bones have finally settled in the right place, like her soul has finally settled in the right place.


End file.
